For years I have heard people I respect speak high praise of Marilynne Robinson. For years I have thought I should read one of her novels. And this summer, I finally did.
Gilead was published in 2004 and went on to win the Pulitzer Prize. Set in the small town of Gilead, Iowa in the 1950’s, the novel is an extended letter from an aging father and minister to his young son, not meant to be read by the son until he’s much older. It’s way more interesting than it sounds.
Robinson is a master of the English language with a wonderful grasp of true spirituality. The book relates countless insights into human relationships, living, dying, loving, and forgiving without ever sounding preachy. At least not to my ears.
As I reflect on the book and what I took away from it, it’s hard for me to put a particular lesson into words. And upon further reflection, I don’t think the value of this work is in taking away any particular lessons “taught” in the book. I think the value, for me at least, were the feelings I “caught” from the book. And the feelings, in stream of consciousness order, are these:
- I want to be more present to those I love in these few days that I have. The main character, Rev. John Ames, is likely facing death in the near future. Robinson does a wonderful job of helping us see life through the lens of impending death. Biblically speaking, there is no wiser way to live than to be always conscious of the number of our days (Psalm 90:12). I particularly liked one paragraph in which the aging father imagines his little boy in the future as an old man. His words prompted thoughts of my own children aging and some of my hopes and prayers for them in future years:
“Why do I love the thought of you old? That first twinge of arthritis in your knee is a thing I imagine with all the tenderness I felt when you showed me your loose tooth. Be diligent in your prayers, old man. I hope you will have seen more of the world than I ever got around to seeing–only myself to blame. And I hope you will have read some of my books. And God bless your eyes, and your hearing also, and of course your heart. I wish I could help you carry the weight of many years. But the Lord will have that fatherly satisfaction.”
Marilynne Robinson, Gilead
- I want to prepare my sermons with both the sobriety of knowing that life and death are in the balance, but also with the humility of knowing that very little of anything in them will be remembered beyond the day they were preached. Both of these things are true and both of these things are okay. Ames reflects on the piles of sermons in his house, the physical remnant of his life’s work, that were likely just going to be tossed into a fire. It reminds me of something similar in the Eugene Peterson’s biography where there were piles of old sermons and copies of his books being eaten by rats in the crawlspace under his house. Pictures like these help us ministers not to take ourselves too seriously, even while knowing full well that our work still matters.
- I appreciate the way Rev. Ames seemed to live in continual conversation with dead authors, particularly John Calvin. For the last several years I’ve been discovering my life-long conversation partners and Calvin is one of them.
- I want to process my life in prayer as Ames does. Throughout the book, he finds himself in situations that he can’t seem to sort out and realizes that he needs to sort it out in prayer. In other cases, he’s well-aware of what is happening in his head or heart and knows he needs to gain new perspective through prayer. He models a very biblical approach to a praying life; a life I value more with each passing year.
Whatever your occupation or particular station in life, I think you would appreciate spending some time in the head of Rev. Ames. Marilynn Robinson has captured truth and beauty in Gilead. I happily recommend it.
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